"Don't open your mouth to spew another lie," he hissed, locking her wrists to the bed with his own fingers. "I looked for an Eric Davies – and I found no record of him searching a hundred years back. Now either you've decided to lie to make yourself sound more experienced or there is something important you aren't telling me." It was the first time she saw the real Lord Voldemort surface.

"I'm not lying –"

He covered her mouth with his hand. "Tell me the truth!"

Chapter Eight

For a brief instant she knew this was it. She was going to die and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. Tom's fingers covered her mouth, smothering her breathing. His eyes were a steely gray – murderous – ready to harm. And then his grip slackened, eyes softened, it was over.

"Marie," he said, his voice level.

"Tom," she whispered, her head was resting between his palms, drawn straight up to look him in the eye.

"Tell me the truth." Vulnerability wasn't something that described Lord Voldemort, and there was no mistake that he was not showing any signs of vulnerability now. But there was something in him that had offered itself up. It wasn't trust. It was an option. An explanation. He was giving her time to explain herself.

Marie looked him in the eye. It was all there. If there was any perfect moment to let everything loose it was now. But then she would die. And tonight, she didn't want to die. She wanted one more week with Tom, one week before everything was smashed into pieces. There was no point now in trying to think of a way to kill him. Somewhere inside of her she knew she wouldn't be able to do it.

"I can't." His fists slammed into the mattress. "Tom," she grabbed his face, pulling on his ear. His body jerked in an unexpected way, eyes flickering close, his shoulders sagging. He was completely relaxed, easily seduced. "You like that? Talk to me Tom."

"Tell me… the truth, Marie." He rolled to his side, but his face was still near hers.

"Give me time, Tom, it will come in time." With her death or his.

She was going to be dead by the end of the week.

Their relationship was a volatile – full of mini, explosions cropping up at every corner – thing and it was only made worse by Tom's shadowing everything Marie did. The word overbearing had crossed her mind a few times, it was only when he had researched her last name in the Index of Wizarding Surnames did he find even the hint of an answer.

"Just give me time," Marie said stroking the underside of his ear. She could get him to do just about anything, which was surprising considering who he was. "A little bit more time." But he was on his guard – he was always on his guard when it came to her. Always on the offense, which proved on a cold Thursday in November.

Tom was half hidden by the pillar only a portion of his ace was exposed to the light. There he watched a burning in his gut had started to grow. It was like a seed of poison that had been born inside his chest, getting bigger everyday, until it was too gigantic not to notice anymore. His eyes followed Marie speaking to a Gryffindor boy. She was smiling at him, nodding occasionally like she was enjoying herself.

A match lit in his chest. The reaction his body had pled no contest to how he felt. Rage bubbled in his chest, murder polluting his veins. He had no control of himself, completely unaware of his mind as he moved towards the pair.

Marie saw him before her friend did. Here eyes broadened in fear and realization that he was on a warpath. Directed straight for her.

"Tom," she said, softly. She broke away from the boy – Jared Daniels – who was trying to pawn off his stolen vial of Dragon's Blood and stepped in front of him, wrapping an arm around his waist. A kiss landed on his cheek but it felt hollow in his skin. He still wasn't watching her, his eyes directed straight for Jared who was looking more uncomfortable by the second.

"Are you sure, Marie?" The boy asked. "I know you're good with potions, it would be your secret ingredient." Tom's fingers tightened painfully on her hip.

"No thank you." She succumbed to the biting pain in her midsection, letting Tom steer her away. "Stop it, Tom. You're hurting me." But he didn't listen instead he pulled her violently into the nearest empty classroom. A scarlet sheen had flitted over his irises and just as suddenly disappeared. He had her shoved against the desk forcing his way between her legs so he could be close enough to kill her if he needed. "Tom, stop!"

"What did he want from you?" He withdrew his wand, watching her wince and begin to hyperventilate. Fear flooded her lungs and to her sheer mortification Marie started to do what she liked to call Panic crying. Her chest heaved; the terror had reached its greedy claws into her heart and was prepared to stop it. Like Tom.

"T-tom," she managed to get out in between the upcoming hysteria that was rising in her throat.

He cupped her cheek, bracing his hands on her shoulders to steady their shaking. "Breathe, Marie." There was something in his voice she wouldn't have ever expected from him – warmth. It made her settle closer, pushing past the fear to rest her head on his chest. "Why are you afraid of me?"

"Because, I know who you are." She clutched onto his robes like a child to a blanket. "Who you'll become." It hadn't meant to come out the words had just flowed from her mouth. Minutely she found it surprising to realize how close she had gotten to him. Essentially, it was all word vomit.

He was silent for a moment. "Who am I?"

She bit her lips, looking straight up into his eyes.

"Lord Voldemort."